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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573460">Let me Take Care of You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingWillows/pseuds/WhisperingWillows'>WhisperingWillows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Hand Jobs, Heavy Fluff, M/M, Pampering, Scar Worship, Scars, Trans Male Character, i didn’t know how to do the roles for this prompt so it’ll go both ways, rough characters being soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:06:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29573460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingWillows/pseuds/WhisperingWillows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Finishing up a disgusting encounter with the Swine King in the Warrens, Dismas returns to the hamlet to a surprise, sweet night of being cared for by Reynauld.</p>
<p>And after the Crusader takes a beating fighting the prophet, he tries to return the favor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dismas/Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Warrens were a cesspool of sickness, infection, of rot and disease, and by far, Dismas’s least favorite place on the entire damn estate. Still, his line of work meant getting sent wherever he was needed whether or not he particularly cared for it. When rumours of some fleshy swine regality came to light, the heiress saw him fit to help take it down.</p>
<p>First there was his stupid, little sidekick! Just the memory of his awful squealing made his ears ring, but the Swine Prince itself? That thing was the ugliest bastard he’d seen in his entire life, and though he luckily made it out with no diseases, his stomach whirled at the thought of finding worse once it was time to storm the manor.</p>
<p>That would not be for some time, at least. Today, he was alive, if wounded, and Light above, he wanted a bath. </p>
<p>The stitches in his shoulder were checked, with the head nurse giving her compliments to Missandei’s fieldwork, then he was sent off from the sanitarium with a clean bill of health along with the arbalest (who he passed the commendations to) and the houndmaster. The hellion who came with them was not so lucky, and was kept behind to be treated for Ague. They splintered off to the taverns with plans to celebrate while he made a beeline for the barracks. The backliners never took as much filth.</p>
<p>The highwayman didn’t even plan to bother heating up the water. The chill would make it all the nicer to get warm in his bed later on, but when he went to drop off some things in his room, there was Reynauld, lacking his often seen armor in favor of an ironed tunic with loose sleeves. The crusader had to restrain himself from literally sweeping the other off his feet at his arrival.</p>
<p>This was a recent development: letting his guard down in favor of a more relaxed demeanor as his connections and faith in companions grew. Dismas still carried a knife wherever he went, so the sentiments clearly weren’t shared, but his significant other finding a sense of peace was comforting.</p>
<p>“You’ve been discharged. That’s excellent. I take your injuries are minor?”</p>
<p>“His royal highness put a gash in my shoulder, but it’s more sore than anything. Yes, you can hug me if you’re careful with it.”</p>
<p>Reynauld embraced him the moment he had permission. “Good. I was worried, but clearly there was nothing to worry about. I know nobody else so capable of staying alive and well.” He tilted his head up with a seldom ungloved hand and tucked his scarf down to kiss him. Dismas was quick to separate.</p>
<p>“Come on, three of those rancid pigs threw up on me. You really don’t want to do that. If you’re done being a lovesick fool, I need to get cleaned up.”</p>
<p>“So what? I have no taste when it comes to my adulations and adorations. You know this by now.” Dismas’s brow tilted up ever so slightly in surprise. This was the closest the crusader had ever gotten to teasing. “Besides, I’ve already made arrangements for that. I booked us a room in the tavern tonight once I heard of your party’s impending arrival.”</p>
<p>A familiar discomfort rose in his chest. Reynauld knew how to be romantic and giving and sweet, and for somebody so used to putting up walls and always having an ulterior motive when offering niceties, accepting grander gestures was difficult. Almost painful. He noted he didn’t ask before going ahead with getting the room, probably because he figured he’d refuse otherwise.</p>
<p>He continued. “That means a guaranteed hot bath. I understand that is a priority.” Not just that, but thick walls meant to muffle the raucousness of the gambling hall and bar, as well as the more unsavory commotion of the brothel. The usual sounds of other heroes getting up early to do whatever they did wouldn’t wake him up. Not to mention, there was absolutely no chance of one of their coworkers finding the pair sharing a bed.</p>
<p>Their’s was an open secret in some ways, but neither of them truly wanted it out there on display. Their mission wasn’t one meant to breed drama.</p>
<p>“You prick,” Dismas muttered. “I’ve never met anyone sappier than you. How the hell do you expect me to keep up?”</p>
<p>“Just let me take care of you. Allow me the pleasure of pampering you, if only for this one night.”</p>
<p>-<br/>Ablutomania.</p>
<p>That’s what the plague doctor called it when one of their party members on a mission developed an obsession to keep clean when the sliminess of the cove got to them. They tried to wash themselves in a sickly colored tidepool and got horribly sick as a result.</p>
<p>Dismas wasn’t so stupid or so desperate, but given the opportunity, especially when stained with the stomach contents of mutant swine, he would scrub himself raw after expeditions. His stitches were carefully avoided in this case. It would take forever to get his clothes clean again, though he could worry about that later.</p>
<p>Soap wasn’t even a luxury they had available when he, Reynauld, and the heiress first arrived in the hamlet. Now all sorts of flowery scented victuals that he cared nothing about were on offer. The town had made a strong revival under her leadership, with the tavern being one of the more obvious beneficients.</p>
<p>Dismas soaked until the water turned uncomfortably cold. He was in his own head thinking about the earlier fight so long that was the only thing that could finally snap him out of it. He showed back up to the room in a towel.</p>
<p>“Did you want me to get us dinner?”</p>
<p>“After what I’ve seen, I don’t think I’ll ever eat again.”</p>
<p>“That bad, huh? Come to bed.” He didn’t have to be told twice. Never had a bed looked so appealing in his life, especially with such a handsome face beckoning him over. The crusader had changed into his undershirt and long johns, and when the other man approached, he wrapped his arms around his waist to draw him in.</p>
<p>“My hero. You’ve made the warrens safer to traverse and felled a threat to the hamlet. I hope you’re proud.” Reynauld brushed his fingers over the bandages wrapped around his shoulder. “I’ll help you replace the dressing tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“I’d feel more pride if the smell wasn’t stuck in my nose,” he grumbled as the towel was discarded. Only with him did the litany of scars decorating lithe skin seem easy to ignore. </p>
<p>Most nights, anyway. Dismas’s body was pulled close with one strong arm, and the fingers so carefully inspecting his greater wound a moment ago found themselves occupied with exploring his form. </p>
<p>“What are you doing?”</p>
<p>“I’m admiring you. I haven’t even had the chance to properly spoil you yet.” He thumbed over a quartet of deep gashes that had long healed on Dismas’s chest. He remembered these as the result of a ghoul catching the highwayman off guard. </p>
<p>“So many scars. Engraved memories. Proof of your continued survival. A part of you. Soon a new one will join the rest and I will love it as much as I love you.” As much as the word hung in the air, it still flustered Dismas to actually hear it said aloud. It was still hard for him to say on his own end, but the crusader was a patient man. “A scar is a story. You don’t get that as much with a suit of armor. I want to know about each one.”</p>
<p>Fuck, he could be so painfully romantic it hurt. Dismas was caught off guard by his sudden interest, unable to do more than let them be touched.</p>
<p>“What’s this one?” He prodded a small, but prominent line in his abdomen.</p>
<p>“Another one of those damn pigs. Bastard got me with a damn spear. </p>
<p>“And this here?” He touched a gnarled mass of scratches in his side.</p>
<p>“One of the fungal aberrations from the Weald. One of its buddies marked me, and suddenly they really wanted me dead. Didn’t help that it healed improperly.”</p>
<p>“What about these?” He dragged his fingers under a pair of symmetrical, faded scars under his pecs.</p>
<p>“Ah, that was a new fangled thing called elective surgery!” </p>
<p>“You had this done to yourself on purpose? Curious…”</p>
<p>“Yup, and I was more than happy with the results, too. I’d never taken better care of a pair of wounds in my life.” He offered a light, confident laugh. “Admire those all you want, holy man.”</p>
<p>Nearly every inch of skin was touched, grazed, and caressed in the name of learning more and more about the highwayman’s history of injury. He was a lucky son of a bitch to have survived half the stories behind them as Reynauld would learn. Later rather than sooner, interest in the scars faded, and innocent exploring eventually culminated in a clear grope.</p>
<p>“Reynauld.”</p>
<p>“Yes?”</p>
<p>“As much as I’d love to get off after a hard couple of days, I don’t want to have to get up and take another bath. Hell, I don’t even want to have to move.”</p>
<p>“You’ve not paid enough attention to me. I don’t care about my needs. I’m celebrating you being safe, and alive, and doing hard work to rid this place of its more extreme evils.” He shifted a bit more against him, slowly kneading his hips. He’d long since discovered how wonderfully weak they were to affection. Dismas made a small sound of approval. “Allow me to take care of you. Please. You won’t even have to move.”</p>
<p>No part of Dismas would ever let himself believe he deserved any of this pampering, but his partner clearly didn’t care about that. Damn him. How could he ever go back to rushed, sleazy lays in closets or in shallow forests not far from the brigand camps he formerly frequented after all the treatment Reynauld’s given him?</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he hummed. “I need more convincing.”</p>
<p>“Are you honestly going to make me beg to do this for you?”</p>
<p>“I mean, I’ve gotten very good at making you beg,” he teased. “How could I resist?”</p>
<p>“I changed my mind about you. You are a wretched, awful man.”</p>
<p>“That’s more in line with the truth!”</p>
<p>More convincing. Sure. That just meant getting to touch him more. “Wretched, awful, but very handsome at least.” Reynauld stroked the outside of his thigh with a small hum, pulling him closer and pressing his face in the crook of his neck and shoulder. “A Crusader serves the light. Warriors for the greater good, but there is no rule that our servitude is exclusive.”</p>
<p>His hands were callused, rough, but he knew how to keep his touch gentle nonetheless, tracing fingers up and inside his thigh.</p>
<p>“Isn’t there, though? Not allowed to worship idols or other deities or—Fuck—“ Dismas hissed out a breath as those all too skilled hands prodded his folds. “Rey…”</p>
<p>“No rule about worship like this. Will you let me take care of you now?”</p>
<p>“Alright, holy man, go right ahead. Do whatever you want.”</p>
<p>Like he was promised, he didn’t even have to move. Reynauld tucked the blanket back and slunk between his partner’s legs, which he spread apart. Where he last left on his thighs with his hands was replaced with his mouth, eagerly trailing kisses.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass…”</p>
<p>“And you don’t have to be so impatient. Quit squirming, highwayman, or I’ll take longer.”</p>
<p>That was a threat Dismas took seriously. ‘Impatient’. The word used to make him scoff, but once he was deemed to be ‘in too much of a hurry’, and he was practically tortured with gentle affection for what felt like hours before finally being allowed relief. The Crusader could be a cruel, cruel man.</p>
<p>That mouth eventually found its way to his core and solicited a quiet swear from him. Reynauld’s tongue lapped over him a few times before opening up with his fingers. The highwayman keened as his clit was quickly discovered and worshipped as surely as the other parts of him were.</p>
<p>“Shit, I guess we found a better use for that tongue over incessant praying...shit!” He shifted briefly to bite down in that sensitive spot where his leg met his groin. There would certainly be a mark there the next morning. “I’m kidding! Teasing! Get...get back here…” </p>
<p>Dismas quickly grabbed him by the hair and pulled him back in place. He could’ve sworn He could hear the ghost of a laugh under his partner's breath. </p>
<p>A few long moments passed of Reynauld slowly, lazily dragging his tongue over the soft bud, bringing more heat to his center. He didn’t seem to mind the squirming anymore, coupled with the low groans and huffing that escalated with every languid dash. Dismas could practically feel him grinning down there.</p>
<p>“Rey…”</p>
<p>The Crusader sealed around the lips to start sucking, and his hips had to be held down by his free hand to keep him from bucking up. That part of him was far more sensitive than he recalled, long neglected in the heat of past flings and long dry spells. </p>
<p>If anybody had told the highwayman a year ago that the holier-than-thou, displaced soldier who wouldn’t even look at him back then would one day render him such a useless puddle of want, he would’ve called it an easy bet.</p>
<p>“Guh.” The coil of arousal tightened deep in his belly. “Gonna...I’m gonna…”</p>
<p>Then he bit him.</p>
<p>Or not quite. More like a nip, but he was just rough enough to send lightning shooting through his body and force him over the edge. Dismas’s legs quaked, back arching so hard it’s a wonder his spine didn’t break. He stroked his hips as he came down from the high.</p>
<p>Reynauld came back up with a dopey grin and a look of admiration. “I think that’s a proper hero’s welcome, now isn’t it?” He kissed him, only to be pushed away by Dismas like earlier, this time with a giggle.</p>
<p>“You taste like—“</p>
<p>“Don’t be vulgar. I taste like you, and that’s a fine thing to taste like.” He brought the blanket back up and over him. “I like you like this. You actually seem happy.”</p>
<p>“Don’t get used to it.” He was half asleep by the time he finished his sentence. Moments later he was out like a light in the arms of his knight with no shining armor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dismas returns a favor and takes care of Reynauld.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You left them. You left a family you’d spent years building, so what hope of you staying with me do I have, huh? What’s different about me?”</p><p>“...You’re broken. Just like me.”</p><p>-<br/>Dismas remembered his answer so clearly, and all the confliction it caused him after. Broken. Reynauld wasn’t wrong, of course, he was indeed a very broken man. He didn’t even know about…</p><p>...About that woman. About that kid. About the locket.</p><p>The Crusader was almost surprisingly open about abandoning his own wife and child. “No secrets,” he’d said to him, Paracelsus, and Junia shortly before their first expedition. It certainly inspired the others to offer up a bit more trust, and more of their own conflicts. Dismas never felt a need to share what exactly sent him searching for redemption, however, especially when it was open knowledge he was a murderer anyway.</p><p>Broken.</p><p>Whether or not that was true, being called out like that hurt. Yet, it was apparently the answer Dismas was looking for on some level, seeing as he was waiting for him in his room like a dog missing its master. Broken, but he wanted to be broken with him. The emotional walls the highwaymen spent years building crumbled.</p><p>He felt like he owed Reynauld in some way after spending a whole damn night being as sickeningly sappy as possible, but it was rare for him to reciprocate anything just because he owed anyone. What surprised him more than anything was his want to do something for his partner. Now seemed like a good time. The Gibbering Prophet had been defeated, and the victorious party that struck him down was on their way back to the Hamlet!</p><p>But it had been hours since that announcement was made, and Reynauld hadn’t yet returned to his room in the barracks. Worry and annoyance fought a battle in his mind. Maybe they were just taking their sweet time to come back, or maybe Reynauld had been gravely injured and was being kept at the sanitarium for treatment. Maybe he should go there and check on the situation rather than sit on his bed complaining internally about having to wait.</p><p>The worry won. Disgusting.</p><p>The Crusader and the Vestal were rubbing off on him. He never would’ve given a second thought if it were one of his former brigandier coworkers.</p><p>He approached the door, but it was pushed open just as he reached for the handle, and Dismas barely got out of the way in time to avoid being hit. There was Reynauld, his usually polished, well cared for armor dull with much and dust. He walked, or...more like trudged right past the guest in his room, straight to his bed, where—</p><p>Thump</p><p>—He promptly collapsed. Armor and all.</p><p>He hadn’t even noticed him?</p><p>Dismas, brow quirked in concern and a very mild amusement, wandered over. The Crusader almost seemed dead. Clearly he had a harder time in the Ruins than he did with the Swine King in the Warrens weeks before. “You alive?”</p><p>His shoulders twitched, the only sign of surprise he could muster through exhaustion. “Dismas? Did you just come in? I didn’t hear you.”</p><p>“I’ve been here. Snooping. Being creepy. Learning all your horrible secrets, like that you write notes in the margins of your versebook. Such vandalism!” He laughed a short, curt laugh before helping Reynauld turn over so he could sit up. “Come on, big guy…We gotta get you out of this. I remember hearing your bones creaking the last time you slept in your armor.”</p><p>Every move was sluggish. Slow. He wouldn’t tease, as much as he wanted to. “I take that everyone survived, at least. I didn’t hear any news of casualties.”</p><p>“Hm? Oh. Yes, nobody perished. Feels like a miracle, though. Barristan, unfortunately, must undergo extra care at the Sanitarium before he’ll be walking again.” He tilted his helmeted head downwards. “He took a hit for me.” Reynauld’s tone was droning and low.</p><p>“Oh? So what was this guy’s schtick?” Dismas got started undoing the straps of his gauntlets. He’d helped take off the armor countless times now in an act that never felt any less intimate. </p><p>The Crusader made a few tired gestures with his other hand. “The..the ceiling. Made it crumble. Lots of rubble,” he finally muttered when he realized his companion clearly didn’t understand. Dismas winced.</p><p>“Yeah, uh, that...does not sound fun.”</p><p>“We took the brunt of his condemnable attacks. Had to protect Junia and Missandei. They don’t have the fortune of being so fortuitous, and losing Junia could’ve meant us all dying.” But there was only so much her healing abilities could do, as Dismas would quickly learn. The armor slowly clattered off his battered body. The highwayman was careful with the pieces he handled, but Reynauld seemed too exhausted to bother with his usual, meticulous care of the suit.</p><p>“I’m glad you’re back,” Dismas told him gently as he helped strip away a dented hauberk. He could make out the edge of a bruise on his neck.</p><p>“I’m glad I didn’t have to take all this off myself.”</p><p>“Well, I have gotten pretty good at getting your clothes off, haven’t I?”</p><p> </p><p>His now revealed, tired face formed a quick grin, which quickly faded into a wince as he half laughed, half coughed. His arm quickly gripped his side. “Ah, my friend. Don’t make me laugh. My ribs hurt too much already.”</p><p>The full scale of the damage caused by the rubble was revealed as the last layer was pulled away. The Crusader’s muscular, barely scarred form was riddled and marred with deep, massive bruises in all shades of violet. Most of the damage was clear on his back. Dismas’s fingers grazed over the largest, which enveloped around a quarter of the skin, but quickly withdrew hearing the crusader wheeze through his teeth.</p><p>“Shit. They really didn’t want to keep you at the sanitarium? All this must’ve made it hell to trudge back with all the armor.”</p><p>“All I need is rest, and plenty of it, but I can do that here. There is no need for me to take up a bed at the infirmary.” Dismas helped him get comfortable, laying on his stomach so his wounded back faced up to the ceiling. “I have suffered much worse in my days as a foot soldier! I was still well enough to help our resident man-at-arms back to safety. This shall pass and I’ll be ready for the next expedition in a matter of days.”</p><p>“You sound more like you’re trying to convince yourself of that, holy man.” Dismas preferred a couple nasty cuts that needed stitched over that horrific mass of contusions. He’d be shocked if the man would even be able to move once the soreness set in. That ought to be entertaining. “You know boss lady isn’t that cruel. She’s going to make you take extra downtime instead of forcing you out to another Ruins venture, even if you tell her you’re fine. I say enjoy it. We can go gambling once you feel up to it.”</p><p>“Weren’t you evicted from the hall last time you tried to enter?”</p><p>“Ha! The heiress talked to ‘em. Said I was ‘cured’ of my, uh, tendencies.”</p><p>Reynauld surprised him then. His arm, damaged, but still strong as ever, practically shot out to yank the highwayman down by his side in soft bedding. For the sake of pulling him close, his sluggishness vanished for just that moment.</p><p>“Oof—!”</p><p>“Perhaps I can be persuaded to come with you and keep you out of trouble, if you would agree to attend the abbey with me afterwards.”</p><p>“Bah, you’re twistin’ my arm, Rey. Sure, I wouldn’t mind an opportunity to meditate.” Reynauld wouldn’t even try to convince him to enter the Transept, and the penance hall wasn’t a very good fit for either of them (Though Dismas was never short on jokes about the controversy of flagellation). Though this was progress for both of them. Dismas wouldn’t step foot into the abbey long after arriving at the hamlet, and the same went for Reynauld and the tavern.</p><p>They didn’t mind so much now. Especially to make the other happy.</p><p>“Are you going to let me up so I can get us dinner?”</p><p>“I don’t want dinner. I only wish to rest, and to have you with me.”</p><p>Of course he forgot to account that Dismas might be hungry, but skipping out on food tonight wouldn’t kill him. “Fine, fine…I wasn’t planning on leaving ya’, though, beyond getting a bowl of soup.”</p><p>He remembered the way he asked Dismas to allow him to take care of him, down to his exact tone and the inflection within it. The thought, and what came after, still sent goosebumps rising along his arms under his overcoat. Speaking of that, he was still wearing. “You’ll need to release me, nonetheless. How fair is it that you get to be half naked while I’m still bundled up?”</p><p>The crusader made an indignant sound before finally releasing Dismas, allowing him to sit up and at least get the coat off, as well as his belt, holster, and his scarf. He thought about how he was supposed to ask the same of him, though he imagined he wouldn’t be so good at ‘pampering’. He hadn’t rented a room or anything like he did.</p><p>“I wanna take care of you,” he finally forced himself to blurt out. “Like you did for me when I fought that giant mess of meat some might call a pig. You deserve it.”</p><p>Reynauld looked over with a weary smile on his face. “I see. I would enjoy that.”</p><p>“Thing is, I’m not sure how. Especially when I can barely touch you.” And his partner was unfortunately on the touchy side, as evidenced by his hesitance to let Dismas go when he had the opportunity to grab him a moment ago.</p><p>“Truly, I’m satisfied with your presence alone. I don’t wish for you to feel as though you owe me for what I did.”</p><p>“Too late, but that ain’t your fault.” He huffed. Dismas shifted fully onto the bed, thinking. He hovered over Reynauld, making sure he wouldn’t come in full contact of his horrifically bruised back. “Ah...you called me a hero for helping fight the Swine King, but I don’t think you really meant it.”</p><p>“No matter our origin, I’d say each of our companions, including ourselves, are heroes. Nobody arrives at this hamlet as saints, but we’re all here for a righteous purpose.”</p><p>“I suppose, but…” He leaned in, lips ghosting the back of his ear. “Your strength honors the Light, Sir Reynauld.” The highwayman was absolutely stealing one of his lines, as per his talents, but it worked on him. His shoulders tensed just slightly and the hairs on his neck rose. Dismas laughed under his breath. “I do mean that. A mighty sword arm anchored by holy purpose, a zealous warrior. My zealous warrior.”</p><p>He hadn’t remembered where he heard that line.</p><p>“You’ll never convert me, holy man, but hey, you’ve convinced me to actually go into the abbey. That’s a victory. Now relax.” He affectionately squeezed a part of his shoulder that wasn’t a deep dark violet. He needed to genuinely compliment him more often, it seemed. “If you stay tense you’re only gonna be even worse off tomorrow when the soreness hits.”</p><p>“Dreadful thief, taking my own words to use against me.”</p><p>“Whatever works, ah?” He ran his fingers over the bumps of his spine with as careful a touch he could manage. If it weren’t for the bruising, he’d eagerly be touching him wherever he would allow. He didn’t think the brisk touch he’d developed from his lowly pickpocketing beginnings might help now, but they were coming in handy.</p><p>Reynauld sighed lowly as he worked below his waistband. “I’m willing to bet there’s one piece of you that isn’t messed up. I can do this part without having to steal any tricks, at least.”</p><p>One of his favorite ways to bolster his companions when anticipating a fight with brigands was to tell them all about the embarrassing shit they did in their camps. As aggressively straight as all his former bandit friends claimed to be, the truth was they screwed each other all the time. Not a lot of women are interested in filthy bandits, as it turned out. Point was, Dismas could handle a dick pretty well, especially in a rush.</p><p>Not that he really wanted to rush, but the man had gotten far too good with his body, and was learning how to tease. He had to get him back on that.</p><p>As one hand massaged his relatively undamaged waist and the other wrapped around his member, reynauld’s hands drifted up to grip his pillow. He moved, just barely, but enough to give his partner’s hands more space to work with. “Attaboy,” he practically cooed out.</p><p>“Your hands are cold…”</p><p>“Shuddup and they’ll warm up soon enough.”</p><p>Which they did, and Dismas delighted as his composure cracked the longer he rubbed up and down his shaft and worked him to hardness. The way his stoic crusader’s breath hitched and how a moan occasionally slipped out, the subtle flush between his shoulders, and how he shook just barely under his ministrations.</p><p>“Feel good?”</p><p>“Feels...good. Yes.”</p><p>“Can you lay on your back at all?”</p><p>“Not at all…”</p><p>“Then sit up.” He took his hand away to quiet protest. “Just for a moment. I promise.”</p><p>He had to help him sit, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. Dismas slunk down between them and gently eased down his pants to his ankles. “Hairy bastard,” he muttered with a quiet laugh. “Damn, that’s a handsome dick you got. Nice to see I’ve had a good effect on it.”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>Even past the beard, he could see a very rare blush on the Crusader’s worn face. “What...Oh!”</p><p>Dismas dragged his tongue up his length and over the tip. “What, you’ve never had anyone suck you off before? I supposed I’d expect that of any persnickety ‘soldier of the light’, but you weren’t so uptight about eating me out not too long ago, were you?”</p><p>He buried his face in his hands. How hilarious, he was embarrassed! And by the light, it looked good on him. Dismas gripped his hips and took him into his mouth, as deep as he could go without gagging, sucking and swiping his tongue under his cock. He hummed quietly at the way he clearly struggled against bucking his hips into him. It was all simultaneously endearing and hilarious.</p><p>“Dismas…” He tied to warn him as he approached the edge, but he stayed latched to him to push him over the edge with a stifled groan. Dismas didn’t necessarily WANT to swallow his load, but he didn’t want to soil anything, and there wasn’t exactly a good place to spit in the room, either. Before he could say anything, be it sappy and loving or further teasing, he was hauled up with the last of Reynauld’s strength.</p><p>He was trapped, the Crusader on his stomach and his highwayman under his arm like earlier. He tried to kiss him.</p><p>“Ah...you sure about that?”</p><p>“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you. Aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me and my whims?”</p><p>So he relented. Dismas definitely tasted interesting, like him, Reynauld supposed. “So, the gambling hall tomorrow.”</p><p>“And then the abbey,” Dismas nodded.</p><p>The affirmation was all the Crusader needed to hear before finally allowing his exhausted body to pass out, his noble highwayman at his side.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Finally got the second part up! Here you go!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed! Comments and feedback are appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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